


Remember Adam's Fall

by ineffablebadger



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Gift Giving, He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Implied Neglect, M/M, Pining, There is a lot of pine and it's not just the christmas tree
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27803647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablebadger/pseuds/ineffablebadger
Summary: It's nearly December and Christmas is in full swing at the Dowling's residence. Nanny Ashtoreth, Brother Francis and Warlock celebrate the season together.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31
Collections: IneffableBadger's Seasonal Fics, Make the Yuletide Gay 2020





	Remember Adam's Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for the 'Make the Yuletide Gay' event by the fabulous Our Side Yule Team.
> 
> Week 1 - Prompts are 'Something to Nibble', 'Carolling' and 'Found Family'. I hit all of them to different extents. 
> 
> CW // Implied/Referenced Parental Neglect.

It was nearly December at the Dowling’s residence and Christmas was in full swing. Young Warlock had finally eaten the last of his Halloween sweets. Harriet Dowling had just hosted a Thanksgiving dinner for the great and good of the diplomatic service and a few slightly bemused British guests who wondered why they were eating turkey in November. However, the highlight of the social calendar, the Dowling’s Christmas Eve Party, was still to come.

On Black Friday a large tree took over the foyer of the Dowling residence. It was at least ten feet tall, laden with crystal baubles and one-of-a-kind decorations collected from around the world by Harriet. She instructed Nanny Ashtoreth to make sure that Warlock was entertained for the afternoon while she oversaw the decoration process with an iron fist. Despite his best, or worst, intentions Nanny could simply not get Warlock to interfere with the decorations at all. Warlock was eight years old now and thought Santa Claus was serious business. The young boy really, really wanted that racing bike.

Instead, Nanny spent the afternoon proudly observing Warlock as he built intricate creations out of lego only to gleefully destroy them, sending bits of plastic scattering all over the place for others to find with their feet later. Through the window he could see Brother Francis standing outside, feeding two red-breasted robins from his hand with a radiant smile on his face. The dying winter sun filtering through the trees gave him an almost ethereal glow. Over the course of the afternoon, unbeknownst to anyone, the angel at the top of the Dowling’s Christmas tree developed a mess of blond curls and slowly replaced its red dress with flowing beige robes and tartan accents.

* * *

The years at the Dowling’s were Crowley and Aziraphale’s favourite. For the first time in millenia, neither needed to think of an excuse to see the other. They often ate together with the rest of the household staff or got to talk while Warlock burned off some of his not inconsiderable energy running around the grounds of the estate. However, Christmas was the best time of all. Harriet was obsessed with the holiday and the hustle and bustle of the house during the busy social calendar meant there were ample opportunities to steal moments together.

To everyone’s surprise, Harriet Dowling decided this year to invite all the household staff for Christmas nibbles and wine. It might have been festive good cheer, or it might have been loneliness in Thaddeus’ continued absence during the holidays.

“Are you going?” Crowley asked Aziraphale in hushed tones as they supervised Warlock’s playtime.

“An invitation for wine and something to nibble? Wouldn’t miss it.” Aziraphale beamed.

“I suppose I can tolerate festivities if you’re there.” Crowley mused, swinging his umbrella as he walked.

The gardeners' ruddy cheeks got ever so slightly more red.

* * *

Nanny Ashtoreth led Warlock into the lounge, and straight away the child ran toward his mother and gave her a hug. Crowley winced, making a mental note to ask Brother Francis when hugging had become a _thing_. He was upset and gratified at once when Harriet responded with a few curt and awkward taps on her sons’ back. She left the lounge with the chef several minutes later, both of them giggling and wine-drunk.

Crowley had taken a seat at the table, which was presently covered with an impressive spread of charcuterie and mince pies, scowling at the brave staff members who tried to take a seat next to him. Brother Francis arrived then and took the vacant seat next to Nanny after pouring himself a steaming mug of mulled wine. The two sat in happy silence in the soft glow of the Christmas lights and Aziraphale touched his left hand lightly to Nanny’s thigh, searching for his hand. In response, Crowley moved his hand to thread his fingers into the soft and still impeccably manicured hands of the gardener.

This had been how their relationship worked since the very beginning. While Heaven and Hell were watching, all they could afford was furtive gestures in secluded places; drunken revelry, brushing fingers, pointed glances. Whatever they did, they always aimed to have an element of plausible deniability in case either of their superiors asked. Nevertheless, neither of them would trade what they had built together for anything.

Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand under the table as he chewed on a mince pie. The angel’s lips were full and stained red with wine and he longed for nothing more than to close the distance between them and kiss the taste off him. He looked wistfully at the spring of mistletoe hanging over the door and wondered whether he could coax Aziraphale over there and tempt him to-

“Nanny! Nanny!” Warlock came barreling over to his caretaker.

“What is it, deary?” Crowley replied in Nanny’s voice.

“I want to show Brother Fwancis that carol you taught me!”

Crowley smirked, and Aziraphale beamed at the boy. The remaining staff members looked up from their various conversations toward Warlock who, despite not being the Antichrist, had a certain thrall by virtue of being an adorable, curious, and rambunctious child.

Warlock opened his mouth, and began singing in a loud, enthusiastic, and imprecise voice.

> Remember Adam's fall,  
>  O thou man, O thou man!  
>  Remember Adam's fall  
>  From heaven to hell!
> 
> Remember Adam's fall,  
>  How we were condemned all  
>  To hell perpetual,  
>  There for to dwell.
> 
> Remember God's goodness,  
>  O thou man, O thou man!  
>  Remember God's goodness,  
>  And promise made!
> 
> Remember God's goodness,  
>  How His only Son He sent  
>  Our sins for to redress,  
>  Be not afwaid.

Nanny Ashtoreth applauded rapturously, smiling proudly at his charge. A few of the other household staff, including Brother Francis, followed his lead and began clapping politely a moment later. Warlock grinned excitedly, smearing the half-melted icing of his slice of yule log around his face and dropping crumbs all over the floor as he ate.

“Festive.” Aziraphale muttered sarcastically under his breath.

“It’s a traditional carol.” Crowley responded quietly.

Aziraphale sighed but decided after a moment that, on balance, this was no more than a grain of sand on the cosmic scales and was harmless Christmas fun for the boy. With an absent father, and a barely more present mother, Warlock deserved whatever made him happy during the festive season. If that was a bit of attention and a distinctly Biblical carol far be it from him to ruin the boy’s fun.

The lounge began to fill with the hubbub of casual conversation as Warlock finished his cake.

“Would you like to open one of your presents early, Warlock?” Nanny Ashtoreth suggested conspiratorially.

The boy grinned and made a beeline for the tree.

Nanny Ashtoreth released Brother Francis’ hand, stood up, and followed his Warlock out of the door. After waiting a few appropriate moments, Brother Francis excused himself and followed the pair.

Warlock was already excitedly ripping into one of his presents when Brother Francis arrived at the tree. He smiled when he saw it was a small box covered in tartan wrapping paper. Aziraphale was nothing if not consistent. Warlock pulled open the box which contained an intricate and detailed model airplane kit.

“To teach him patience and discipline.” Aziraphale offered. Crowley just chuckled in response.

Warlock ran toward Aziraphale with open arms. The angel picked him up and gave him a hug, tussling his hair and looking at him with a smile as he did so.

“Thank you for my present Brother Francis.” Warlock said as he was put gently back on the ground.

“You are welcome!”

Warlock bent down to pick up the discarded paper and went scampering off down the hallway to dispose of it in the bin. Crowley reassured himself that Warlock was on his best behaviour in the run up to Christmas for purely selfish reasons. Aziraphale, too, was happy with himself. He was certain that this was a sign of the positive influence Brother Francis was having on the boy. They stood together looking up at the enormous christmas tree, both satisfied with a job well done.

“Is that angel in tartan?” Aziraphale asked after a moment, breaking the silence.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on twitter @IneffableBadger.


End file.
